


Music

by Nezclaw



Series: Monkees Rising [4]
Category: Flight Rising, The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Gen, Mr B Natural eat your heart out, i'll show you the 'power of music', i... don't actually know where i'm going with this..., monkees rising
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-16 16:51:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11256981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nezclaw/pseuds/Nezclaw
Summary: Quick drabble to correct a conspicuous lack of music in what I'd written so far.





	1. Chapter 1

Mike gently stroked his guitar. His trusty twelve-string… in all the chaos he had all but forgotten that it, or something very much like it, had appeared here. It didn’t really matter if it was the original or not… just that it made music. His fingers lightly caressed the strings, coaxing out chords, sweet and pure, to hang in the jungle air. He closed his eyes and played. He didn’t need to see his fingers to play, and he could imagine he was home. Softly at first, but growing louder as he relaxed into it… fingers dancing over the strings as he played. Memories rose in him… memories of the guys at the pad, of the times they had together… of the responsibility he felt to keep them safe and secure. Of the trying times when money was short and he had to search for any sort of employment… of keeping Micky from doing something he would regret… keeping peter from being taken advantage of… of arguments with Davy over the girls he keeps bringing home… he played of himself. Of who he was inside. And he played, the sound filling the air, rising to be joined by a new sound. A steady beat that rose to accompany him, bringing with it impulsiveness and intelligence. Of Cagney impressions and bad jokes. Of the best friend he ever had. Of pranks and mischief tempered with an understanding of the exact lines what not to cross.

And another sound rose. A deeper song, strong and steady. It sang of foolishness and genius. Of innocence and compassion and understanding… of a new perspective, strange questions and stranger answers that somehow still make sense. Of tolerance and acceptance…

And that was joined by one last sound. It wove around the three and carried them higher still… singing of passion and love and anger and arguments… of hot headed stubbornness, but also respect… and the song rose together, harmonizing into a whole and changed again. It sang of adventures. Loyalty… trust and friendship. Of four together against the world, though they might struggle they know that they always have each others’ back. And they can count on each other.

And the music fades, dying down into silence… but it is not the end. For just as the silence is at its peak…

_Ba-dum_

_“Here we come…”_

And the music swells again and they sweep into the songs they know so well and they sing of who they are with voices rising above the music in perfect harmony. They play the songs they’ve played a thousand times before but yet at the same time have never been heard. Not here at least. Not in this place. And the music surrounds them and carries them away in the pure joy of song. For this is what they do. And they change songs without thinking, transitioning from one to the next without the slightest hesitation. They know what they are doing. The music tells them.

_“It cannot be a part of me for now it’s part of you.”_

And truer words have not been sung as the sound ripples across the Clan. And so they finish, the sound fading out… and they know they have never played like that before and perhaps never will again. But the sadness is but a passing thing. And the music concludes. And the silence is absolute.

Mike opens his eyes.

Every single dragon in the clan is watching him.

His fingertips throb and he looks down. Of course. He doesn’t have the calluses anymore. Those are his fingers… right? He stands up and nearly falls over. That’s right. He’s a dragon now. Not human. He smiles nervously at the crowd. He hadn’t expected that… Looking around, he spots his bandmates who look similarly dazed. Micky waves at the crowd before passing out. Peter looks even more spaced out than usual. Only Davy seems unaffected, or perhaps he’s just hiding it better. Mike walked over to where the others were. And the crowd erupted in cheers. Micky jerks back to wakefulness momentarily and grins at the crowd. Peter is still out of it. Davy edges towards Mike.

“What just happened?”

“I don’t know. But i think now’s not the time to find out.”


	2. Chapter 2

The clan continued to cheer as the Monkees fled the scene. None of them could really explain, but it seemed completely natural to react like that. To shout and clap and clamor. Soon it died down to be replaced by excited conversation.

“I know they said they were musicians but…!”

“...Stormcatcher will want to hear about….”

“Never heard anything like that…”

“How?!?”

“Magic?”

“Song isn’t an element!”

“So?”

“...definitely something there…”

“Spirits? Some sort of beastclan…”

“...saw it too?”

“Duuuuuuuuuude……..”

*overly emotional sobbing*

Did they understand all that was sung? Of course not. But that didn’t really matter. It wasn’t about the lyrics. It was about the emotion. Love songs were fairly universal anyway, and the others, well, they caught the gist of it. 

And they understood.

Not just the songs, but the Monkees themselves. More than they did before, at least. They had poured themselves into the music, played heart and soul, and they could hear it. 

The Clan dispersed at last, returning to their usual task, but the music stayed with them. A claw or tail tapping a beat, their steps lighter, a tune on their lips. Even the routine chores of maintaining the Clan seemed less of a burden, and those who were normally reluctant went at it with enthusiasm.

Deires observed this with surprise. Even the trees had responded. She could feel them fill with new vigor and growth, and when she extended her magic to caution them, remind them of the dragons that lived among their branches… and met with little resistance. As if the trees wanted to cooperate with her. She heard wingbeats, and sure enough, Chloreth had just landed nearby, looking extremely irritated.

“Have you checked the trees lately? Every single one of them is determined to put out new growth ahead of schedule. Just because a couple of weirdos who aren’t even Nature dragons played some music!” Deires noticed with some amusement the way Chloreth’s frills had continued to flick even after she finished speaking, matching the beat of the music that had played.

“Yes I have. However, have you noticed how responsive they are to our magic? They’re almost eager to follow our instructions.”   
“I-...” CHloreth paused as she let her magic flow into the tree she was perched on, “I don’t believe it.” Her crests fluttered in bemusement. “They want to know when they will return to sing again.”

“Wait a minute… Zylack!” A third Fae fluttered into the chamber at Deires’ call.

“Yes dear?” Zylack, a tiger/striped male, perched next to Deires, his tail twining around hers. He had founded the Clan alongside her.

“Didn’t you once tell me that there were legends of dragons being able to sing the trees into shape?” Deires asked her mate.

“Oh yes, I believe there are multiple tales of such feats, and Pogue insists his sector loves it when he plays those “bag-pipes” of his. Still, I’m not sure if there are any recent tales of such magic.” he said thoughtfully.

“Curious. I shall have to look into that. In the meantime, I want them taken off the chore rotation.” Deires ordered.

“But they aren’t on the rotation yet.” Zylack pointed out.

“Splendid. Keep them off of it. If the Clan’s reaction is any indication,” she indicated the dragons leaving anonymous gifts at the Monkees' door, “those four have more than earned their keep.”


End file.
